


Dead Letter Box

by falafelfiction



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Forced Prostitution, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2902940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falafelfiction/pseuds/falafelfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellen Tigh finds a way to help the resistance and rise above her degradations on New Caprica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Letter Box

**Author's Note:**

> Most of my BSG fic was written in 2008/2009 and posted on my livejournal. I'm uploading it to Ao3 for posterity.

Ellen kept her eyes closed while she took it.

The act was an ugly writhing thing on the couch. His palms pushed up against her breasts. Her hands slapped down on his chest. His body felt like Sauls. His torso was leathery and robust, his arms scrawny and his hair thinning at the temples. Even his sweat smelt the same. She could pretend that it was Saul if she shut her eyes. It made it easier to fake it. Cavil felt like a man, he grunted like a man, pawed at her like a man. Man. Cylon. She couldn’t tell the difference anymore. She didn’t care. Her Saul could have been a cylon too for all she knew.

She was doing this for her husband. It was all for him. She rationalised it by thinking of how Saul used to get into bar fights for her. He had taken kicks and punches for her. This was what she could take for him. And yes, it hurt her. It repulsed her. But this was her battle. And when she pulled her panties back into place she felt proud as Saul did when he put on his military sash. Because she had done it for him. She had done it for love.

“Well now..." said Cavil, wheezing. "You've certainly gotten my attention, Mrs Tigh.”

She grimaced a smile. “So can we discuss the release of my husband now?”

“Oh, it’s definitely something I am willing to consider,” he said, patting her hand. “But it's a matter I'll have to discuss with my Brothers before any decision can be made. They might need some persuading too. There are a lot of us here, you know.”

Ellen's stomach lurched like she had just been shoved to the edge of a precipice.

“Well...will you please let the other Cavils know that…it’ll be worth their while." She swallowed, feeling like she could vomit all over herself. "You can tell them about the swirl if you like.”

 _The swirl_ , she thought silently to herself. Like a swirl of ribbon or caramel. She invented these little pet names to make the acts seem less abhorrent. But it never worked.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to tell them about _that_ ,” Cavil chuckled.

He reached out his hand and tickled the underside of her chin. Ellen felt her body turning rigid, her stomach cramping with disgust. She was relieved by the knock at the door. Cavil cursed at the interruption, glancing down at his watch.

“You had better tidy yourself up, my dear,” he advised.

Ellen nodded, taking the mirror from her handbag and wincing at the sight of her own reflection. There were white strands running through her blonde hair like cobwebs. There were lines and wrinkles covering her pale pinched skin. There was an orange stain on the front of her shirt. She must have spilled something down herself and not even noticed. Her lipstick was smeared over her mouth and chin. There was another cold soar sprouting on her lip that her powders could not cover. She wiped away the crusty tracks of her mascara and left it at that.

She raised her head as Cavil opened the door. Gaeta was hovering in the hallway.

“The Threes have called a meeting in the Colonial One," he reported. "They require your attendance. I couldn’t find another one of your models.”

He spoke in stiff clipped sentences and avoided calling the cylon ‘sir’. Cavil didn't honour Gaeta with a response. He just reached for his jacket, treating Ellen to an apologetic smile.

“It looks like the whining and headaches are starting early today, Mrs Tigh. I'm afraid we shall have to postpone the matter of your husband's release and discuss it at a more convenient time.”

Ellen gritted her teeth. “If I don’t hear anything soon...I’ll be back to remind you.”

He smirked. “You can _remind_ me any time you like, Ellen. I won’t forget your request in a hurry. But these decisions take so long to process. So much red tape to cut through. The system is a farce, I admit. But don’t worry your pretty head over it for now. Mr Gaeta will fix you some breakfast and then escort you back to your tent.”

Ellen looked back to the door and saw that Gaeta was frowning at her. He was careful to keep his expression blank and unmoved, but his eyes were gleaming with suspicion and concern. After Cavil had left the apartment, Ellen smiled awkwardly and wandered through to the kitchen. She heard Gaeta shuffling into the room behind her as she opened up the fridge. In quick careless movements she took out a packet of bacon, a box of eggs, some tomatoes and mushrooms. Then she turned to the hobs and tapped at the dials with her fingertips.

She noticed that she had broken a nail. She had no idea what she was doing.

“I...I was never very good in the kitchen,” she admitted.

Gaeta stood blinking for a moment before taking the hint. He nodded and stepped up to the cooker, flipping open the cardboard box and taking one of the eggs in his palm. He stared at it blankly. There was no instruction manual. No data to be read from its shell. Gaeta looked utterly bewildered.

“I'm not very good at this either.”

His voice was hollow and defeated.

Silence fell over the kitchen area. Their eyes turned slowly to the toaster; the only kitchen appliance that they might have a hope of mastering. But the word 'toaster' had a darker context now...one that stole away their appetites.

“I could use a glass of water,” Ellen said at last.

Gaeta didn't meet her eyes, but briskly poured her a glass from the tap. Ellen remembered her snobbish days on the Galactica when she would only drink bottled mineral water. The water in this apartment tasted cleaner than the water they had to drink from the wells in the camp. It washed the taste of Cavil out of her mouth at least.

They returned to the sitting room. Ellen lowered herself onto the couch while Gaeta perched on the arm of the sofa. He still couldn't bring himself to look at her. The breathy silence stretched between them as Ellen gulped from her glass.

“Are…you okay, Mrs Tigh?” Gaeta asked finally. “Did he...?”

“He didn’t force me if that’s what you’re asking,” Ellen said hurriedly. “I...I know what it looks like. I'm not proud of it. But I’m faithful to my husband in so many other ways, Mr Gaeta. I’d do anything for him.”

Gaeta nodded. She noticed that his expression was softening now. His eyes were heavy and sorrowful. Ellen wondered if there might be an opportunity here. She reached out and placed a hand on his leg.

“I only came here to get Saul out of prison," she insisted. "Do you have any idea where they are holding him? Do you know if he's been hurt? Is there anything you can do, Mr Gaeta?”

He shook his head. “Detention is run by a separate ministry..." he muttered evasively. "I didn’t even know the Colonel had been taken into custody. I’m sorry to hear about your troubles.”

Ellen ran her hand up his thigh, bringing her fingers close to his crotch. Gaeta drew his knees together, his body tensing like a porcupine curling itself into a ball and raising its quills. Ellen sensed that her usual methods wouldn’t be effective on Gaeta. He wasn’t like other men. Perhaps he wasn’t attracted to women at all. Maybe he just didn’t like sex. Maybe she reminded him of his mother. She brought her hand back to his knee and tried another tactic.

“You know, Saul was always very fond of you, Gaeta..." she cooed softly. "You were such a help to him in the CIC when he took command of the ship. He always said you were smart. He told me he liked your ideas much better than Baltars. I think he thought of you like...like the son he never had.”

Gaeta narrowed his eyes in disbelief. Ellen supposed he had worked with Saul long enough to know that was a preposterous lie. If Gaeta were his son he would have been disowned by now.

“It’s not my department,” Gaeta repeated. “But...but don’t worry. I’m sure President Baltar will take the time to visit your husband in person. They'll have a chance to talk over his arrest and possibly come to terms.”

Ellen sighed, retracting her hand. “You believe in President Baltar?”

Gaeta shifted on the arm of the couch. “He...he doesn’t like this occupation any more than the rest of us. He doesn’t really have a choice. But he’s trying to keep the peace. He says that he signs the detention orders only so he can try to reason with prisoners. He won’t approve of our people being tortured or killed. He...he’s not that kind of man.”

His voice was faltering now. Ellen could tell that he didn't believe his own words.

“But he’s been drinking a lot lately," Gaeta added quietly. "He can't do without his pills. Sometimes I worry that…”

He couldn't finish this sentence. Ellen thought of Saul’s drinking and tipped her head.

“You worry that he will let things slide?" she prompted. "Well Gaeta, it doesn't sound like Baltar is fighting the cylons at all. It wouldn't surprise me if he was signing death warrants and allowing them to hurt innocent people.”

“If he went that far I’d kill him myself,” Gaeta spat.

Ellen blinked in surprise. For the first time he sounded assured.

“Oh..." she gasped. "That’s good to know.”

He frowned at her. “Good?”

She shrugged. “Well, there’s so many people out for that man’s blood. Like killing him will solve all our problems! I guess he isn't going to be allowed to live after all that he has done. If you were to kill him then…at least he’ll be dying at the hands of somebody who cares about him. That seems almost merciful.”

Gaeta pressed his lips together. He seemed too weary to deny his feelings for Baltar. He looked so young but his eyes were as tired as a troubled old mans. His hair was turning grey at the edges.

“There’s really no way to make it better, Felix,” Ellen continued. “Can I call you Felix? We can’t save everyone all at once. I just focus on helping my husband. But maybe I could do something more? When I’m visiting the Cavils maybe I could get information somehow and sneak it back to the resistance...”

"Do you know the people in the resistance?” Gaeta asked sharply.

Ellen hesitated, a shiver passing through her. She remembered that it was Gaeta who had exposed Saul's role in the election scandal. She considered that he might tell the cylons everything she had just said and they would force her to give up the rest of their names. It was too late to take it back now.

Ellen straightened her chin. “Yes, I know all of them.”

Gaeta's eyes widened. He quickly unbuttoned his suit and took out a plastic folder filled with ministry documents. He handed it to Ellen and ushered her to hide it inside her own jacket.

“Please…please could you see that the resistance gets these papers," he whispered. "Don't pass it onto them directly. Hide it in the draws of the garbage dispenser. Just tell one of the leaders that you found it there. There’ll be more messages to come. I’ll deliver them myself some time in the night. And listen...nobody can know that it's me who's sending these packages. You must'nt tell me any of the rebel’s names either. It's not safe.”

“Gaeta, why are you whispering?” asked Ellen, interrupting him and dropping her voice. “Are...are these rooms bugged? Are there hidden cameras? Are we being watched?!”

“No," he said. "No, probably not. I guess I’m just paranoid.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And scared?”

“Yeah...that too,” he added, swallowing. “Just remember...these messages should only be passed between me and resistance leader. Nobody else can know about it. No names. That way if either one of us gets caught we won’t be forced into telling the cylons who we were working with.”

Ellen flinched. “I thought you said nobody was being tortured?”

Gaeta shook his head helplessly. His eyes were straining, on the verge of tears.

“It’s okay," she stammered, trying to reassure him. "We...we can do this. It’s a clever plan, Felix. You and your strategies. I wish I could do something clever to help. I have my talents, but…they aren't so admirable.”

She stroked a hand over her leg and cringed. She embarrassed even herself these days.

“So how will we know when there’s a new message to pick up?”

Gaeta frowned, taking a moment to remember the finer details of his plan.

“Is...is there any sort of marker close to the garbage dump?”

Ellen considered. “There’s Jake. The dog tied up by the hospital tent.”

Gaeta’s eyes lit up. “There’s a bowl, isn’t there?"

“Yes!" said Ellen, enjoying their conspiracy. "A yellow one.”

“Okay. I’ll flip the dog bowl over whenever there is a new message to collect.”

Gaeta scribbled this as a note into his journal, then ripped out the page and handed it to her.

“Saul will be so excited to finally have some real information to work with," said Ellen, almost giggling at the prospect. "Once I've gotten him out of detention this will give him something to fight for. He'll be so grateful.”

Ellen raised her head to find that Gaeta was frowning at her again. His expression was suddenly nervous and doubtful, like he feared he had just make the biggest mistake in his life trusting her with this task. Ellen felt her self-esteem plummeting a little deeper in her chest. She opened her mouth, wanting to insist that she could do this.

Gaeta cut her off before she had the chance to speak.

“Good luck, Mrs Tigh,” he said.

With that he fled the apartment, leaving her to make her own way back to the camp.

Ellen didn't linger for a moment. She hurried down the stairs and along the walk ways, making for the garbage dispenser. She opened the draw that was to become Gaeta's dead letterbox and slid the ministry documents inside. Moving over to the dog bowl, she flipped it with her heel. She caught her breath. Now all she needed was someone to tell.

The Chief and Cally were still sleeping when Ellen arrived at their tent. She covered her nose as she noticed the stack of dirty dishes by their stove and the pail of used diapers in the far corner. Baby Nicky started to cry in his cot when Ellen ducked inside their tent. Cally raised her head, grey-eyed and scowling. She clenched her teeth and rolled onto her side, pulling the pillow up around her ears. The Chief groaned and climbed over her. He asked Ellen to wait while he spent a moment shushing the baby, cooing his name and jangling the coloured mobile hanging over his crib.

Ellen smiled at the little picture. When Tyrol wasn’t blowing things up he was a family man.

"This better be good," said the Chief, yawning and rubbing his eyes as they stepped out onto the road.

“I found something, Chief! When I was taking out the trash. You need to see this!”

Ellen hurried the Chief over to the garbage dump. She scanned the terrain to make sure they weren't being watched then she waved a frantic finger at the draw where she knew that the ministry information was hidden. The Chief removed the plastic folder and flicked through the papers. Ellen felt her heart flutter as a smile spread over his face.

The Chief raised an eyebrow at her. “You found this?" he asked. "Just by accident?”

“What can I say?" she shrugged, playing dumb. "I woke up early and started cleaning the tent. I wanted to make it tidy for when Saul is released. I found this in the draw and I thought that I better let you know."

The Chief snorted. “Well, it’s a lucky thing we found it first. I tell you, this person was taking one hell of a risk just hoping this little parcel would fall into the right hands.”

“Who do you think the source might be?” she asked, curious to hear his answer.

He shook his head. “I have no idea. Zarek maybe...but I thought he was in detention. It could be he talked his way out of jail and now he's working undercover. If it's not him...well...I don’t really know any of those other guys on Baltar's staff. Well, except for Gaeta.” He rolled his eyes, dismissing the idea. “There’s no chance of it being him. We all know that he's a stickler for rules and regs. He would never have the balls.”

Ellen swallowed. She knew what they all thought of Gaeta. How they called him Baltar's little lapdog. How they cursed him for having secured his presidential win. Ellen had said such things herself when she needed someone to blame. But now she hated them for looking down on Gaeta...the same way she knew they all looked down on her.

Ellen took a breath, covering it all with a smile. “It’ll be safer not knowing their name.”

“Right," the Chief nodded. "The less people that know about this the better. You need keep it a secret too, Ellen. Don't go telling anyone else about the dog bowl signal, alright?”

Ellen laughed, shaking her head. “This resistance business is all so confusing," she said. "I’m only too happy to let you be in charge of it, Chief. I have to concentrate on helping Saul.”

The Chief nodded, regarding her with sympathy and pressing her shoulder.

“He’ll be out soon, Ellen," he assured her. "The cylons won't be able to put up with that tough old bastard for much longer." He smiled awkwardly. "I...I better get back. I promised Cally I’d look after the baby this morning and let her sleep.”

Ellen watched as the Chief shoved the messages under his sweatshirt. They shared one last satisfied smile and then he hurried back to his tent. Ellen was left standing alone beside the dumpster. It was still early morning and the streets of New Caprica were desolate. The loud speakers were noiseless. It was too soon for announcements. The only sound to be heard was the ragged panting of Jake's breath. Ellen turned his bowl the right way up and then crouched down low so they were almost nose to nose. She had never liked dogs, but she found she was needful of some form of company and affection.

“We did something...” she whispered to Jake. “We _helped_.”

The little rush of triumph had made her giddy. Ellen wanted to scream it at the top of her lungs. She had nothing else to cling too now. Not even Saul. The only thing she had was this tiny thankless contribution. This fragile idea that she wasn't a traitor, that she was trying to make things better.

She ruffled Jake's fur and went to find him some water.

 

_The End_


End file.
